


The Wedding

by FlameWolf



Series: My Strange Romance [12]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Abnormal Wedding Ceremony, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fingering, Some angst, sex on the dance floor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameWolf/pseuds/FlameWolf
Summary: The wedding of our favorite couple.  Of course, there's a Manson style twist.





	The Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t know and have never met Marilyn Manson. This is fiction, just for fun and no profit will be made from this.
> 
> Author’s Note: Our two lovebirds tie the knot. (Note: Cherise is about seven months pregnant)

Rolling her eyes as Jeordie flitted around her to do adjustments to her dress, Cherise did her best to reign in her irritation.  While she’d wanted to get married to Manson, she found all of this fuss a bit superfluous.  She’d never really been one to care all that much about what she called ‘frumpery’.  All the hubub about dresses, make-up, hair, catering, guests, decorations; all of it seemed like way more trouble than it was worth.  If she’d had her way, they’d have had a humble ceremony with a rent-a-preacher in their backyard.  Her fiance, on the other hand, would hear none of it.  He’d taken charge as soon as she’d suggested having the event catered by KFC.  From that point on, her life had become utter Hell.

She’d been handed off to Twiggy, a man who was obsessed that she looked perfect for what everyone was dubbing ‘her’ big day.  That alone came close to making her snort in derision more than once.  If this was really about her and what she wanted, she wouldn’t have to go to several stores to try on dresses until her self-proclaimed ‘Man of Honor’ found one  _ he _ was satisfied with.  It wasn’t just the dress either.  The effeminate male had taken her to many make-up parlors, nail parlors and hair salons.  All things she couldn’t really stand normally.  Under these circumstances, it was truly unbearable.

As soon as the women running the places found out she was getting married they would immediately start what they called the ‘Princess Treatment’.  Literally every girl in the shops dropped everything they were doing to surround her, following Twiggy’s curt demands to the letter.  The only thing that helped her feel even remotely better about this ordeal was the fact that at least the man had paid attention to her personal fashion choices.  Instead of forcing her into some lacy, white dress; he’d helped her pick out a stunning black and red number.  Also, none of the make-up or hair was done in a traditional manner.  By the time everything was said and done, she came close to resembling some Amy Lee wannabe.  Not that she really minded.

Light, red eye shadow highlighted her blue eyes, her bangs dyed a deep crimson to match the rest of the outfit.  The rest of her hair was left to flow freely down her milky back, the tips touching the top of the corset torso her dress had.  Plucking at the tight laces with gloved fingers, she found herself grateful that it didn’t fasten in the back.  As gorgeous as it as, she wanted to get out of it as soon as the ceremony was over.  Sighing, she hazarded a glimpse at herself as Jeordie finished cutting some loose threads on the hem.

The gown was a perfect mixture of gothic and medieval, hugging tightly to every curve she had.  The bottom,while hugging her form, flowed elegantly to the floor; the back trailing on the floor behind her.  The top was tastefully decorated, having dark gray, crocheted designs as well as an opening that started on her breasts; tapering down to her rather large belly.  In the opening was a deep vermillion silk, the black straps criss-crossed across it sticking out in sharp relief.  The corset itself ended just above her huge pregnant belly, just looking down at it making her feel slightly ashamed.

Already, she had gotten more than a few unkind looks from the staff of the chapel they had chosen.  More than likely, they assumed she was either forcing him into this marriage or her father was, a notion that made her teeth grind together.  She hadn’t even wanted to get married until after the baby was born but Manson had insisted.  He’d wanted the baby to be born legitimate, something that didn’t really matter to her at this point.  Plucking at the opera gloves on her arms, she honestly contemplated just being a runaway bride.  She really didn’t know if she was up for facing the judgemental eyes of the people her fiance had invited, let alone the preacher.

Shuddering, she looked over her shoulder at the man crouch on the floor by the hem of her dress; scissors in his hands and pins in his mouth.  As if sensing her unease, he shot her a smile before spitting the pins into his free hand and getting to his feet.  Brushing off the little red dress he’d chosen for a Bridesmaid outfit before he gave her a hug, Jeordie simply whispered, “You’ll be just fine hun,” in her ear.

“I know but...  I never wanted any of this.  Just a quiet ceremony would have been fine,” she murmured, jumping slightly when she heard a knock on the door.

Frowning, the guitarist headed toward the entry to open it; nearly shutting it again when he saw his boss standing there.  “You’re not supposed to be here,” hissed the puffed up musician, doing his best to block the other man’s view of the bride.

“You can’t tell me you expect me to respect a superstition I don’t even believe in do you?  Cause, I’m tellin’ ya right now Jeordie, if ya think ya can keep me from seeing my wife to be...,” hissed a dangerous sounding baritone, making her skin prickle slightly.

“It’s okay Twigs, let him in,” she urged, not really wanting there to be a fight.  Besides, she’d been separated from him since yesterday due to this stupid superstition Jeordie had.  Well, it wasn’t just him; to be fair.  It seemed most people held the belief it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.

Before the switch guitarist could do anything, the singer was shoving his way in; his eyes moving straight to her.  “You look stunning,” purred his soft, slightly gruff voice as the much taller man closed the distance to take her in his lanky arms.  The scent of cologne filled her senses, the feeling of his body heat alone being enough to make her swoon.  Then lips met hers and she felt herself turn to jelly.

“Mmm, seems you missed me just as much as I’ve missed you,” husked in her ear as gentle teeth nipped her neck.

“You’ll muss her!  That make-up took hours to get right!” came a shrill complaint from behind them, drawing an annoyed noise from the ‘Antichrist Superstar’.

“Oh fuck off.  Go wait outside for a moment,” he spat, not sparing his ex lover a single glance as his heterochromic gaze wandered over her hungrily.  Jeordie pursed his pink colored lips, rolling his dark eyes before simply leaving the room; shutting the door behind him.

“Brian!  That wasn’t very nice,” Cherise protested, smacking him lightly on his chest before taking a few steps back the straighten her dress  While she didn’t really care, Twiggy  _ had _ worked really hard on getting her just right.  It somehow felt disrespectful to let all of that go to waste.

“You think I give a shit about any of that?!  When I’ve been forced away from my seven month pregnant fiance for nearly an entire day now?!  Anything could have happened, you could have gone into labor early!” came the quick retort just before she was crushed against him once again.

“I missed you...  And I was worried.  God, I can’t wait until all of this is over,” growled a sentiment that matched her own, to her great surprise.

Pushing away from him so she could talk to him properly, she found herself taking in the rock star’s attire for the first time.  While he was wearing a tux, the style of it was anything but traditional.  In fact, it almost resembled something Tim Burton had designed.  It was black with dark gray pinstripes, a skull corsage seated in the lapel of the jacket.  The tails were also unusual, seeming to have a gentle wave along the lengths.  His tie was a strange looking bowtie, almost resembling crimson claws reaching out to grab her.  Even his footwear wasn’t the norm, being a highly polished pair of combat boots.  All in all, she’d never seen him look so handsome.

Swallowing the argument that was clawing at her throat, Cherise simply gave him a raised eyebrow before she was reaching up to ruffle his perfectly groomed fringe.  Brushing her off with a grimace, Manson gave her a playful glare before reaching out to wrap his left hand around her thick waist.  Whitish blue and brown eyes glimmering, he sighed in a regretful manner as he allowed his right hand to play with the well hidden slit that ran up the right side of her dress.  It had been one of his very strict specifics about her outfit, crotchless panties being another.  “I think I went  bit overboard.  Maybe a backyard ceremony would have been a lot easier on both of us, especially given the fact I would have been able to satisfy myself with you against a wall by now,” growled his strained voice, fingers snapping the garters clipped to her fishnet stockings.

Blushing, the heavily pregnant woman subconsciously opened her legs for him; gasping when he began to play with her swollen labia.  “Doesn’t mean I can’t pre-game ya just a little.  Want to get you nice and needy for me.  Got the secondary outfit?” rumbled in her ear as he teased her sleeping pearl.

“Yes and now I think I know why you were so specific about it,” she whispered, placing a hand on her taut dome as the child within her rolled.  She only got a smirk in response, black lips landing on her silk covered dome as his digits plunged into her wet core.

“Ffffuck, you’re already so wet,” the ‘God of Fuck’ hissed, using her nectar to stimulate her awakening button.

Biting her red painted lips to keep in her gasps of need, she wrapped her arms around his neck as her head tilted backward.  Just as the tiny sparks of pleasure he was causing were beginning to coalesce in her crowded womb, he was pulling back; huffing slightly as he lifted his dripping fingers to his twitching, black painted lips.  Keeping eye contact, he licked the fluid from his slender appendages; shuddering as a gruff noise escaped him.  “Come, its time,” he husked, offering her an ebony covered arm while his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Fighting against her extreme urge to just fuck the ceremony and pounce the bastard for leaving her on this sweet edge, she wound her arm in his; taking a breath as he lead her out of the room and toward the double doors of the chapel.  As soon as they opened, she was shocked by what she saw.  Instead of a huge group of straight laced A-listers, she saw a bunch of people who obviously shared her lover’s interests.  Alice Cooper, Jonathan Davis, Johnny Depp, Tim Burton, even Rob Zombie were a few of the faces she could pick out in the rather sizeable crowd.  All of them were clad in gothic attire of some sort, making the even more resemble a funeral rather than a wedding.

Even the decorations on the ends of the pews were red and black, replacing her earlier apprehension with confidence.  Still, she felt a bit guilty for not having paid any attention to what Manson had been doing.  If she had, she wouldn’t have felt as worried.  Giving her soon to be husband an apologetic glance, she felt a bit of her melt when he merely shook his head before kissing the top of her gloved hand.  “Its okay, I understand sweetie.  I kinda pushed this whole thing down your throat.  Its only normal that you would have no clue what was going on,” he assured just as the music chosen for their march started.  It was a piano rendition of the song ‘Wight Spider’.

Tears immediately threatened to fill her eyes and she had to actively swallow the knot forming in her throat to make them disappear.  While she didn’t care a whit for messing up her make-up, she knew Jeordie would.  It would be in her best interest to avoid a scene.  Still, she only grew more choked up as they went down the aisle and she saw her best friends standing in the bridesmaid’s spots.  She hadn’t seen these women since she’d moved in with Manson, so seeing them after so long had quite an emotional impact.  Fighting the urge to rush toward the crimson clad trio, she stayed by her fiance’s side as he walked her down.  A job that would have normally gone to her father.  A man she didn’t even want to think about today.

Shaking her head to clear it, she caught the encouraging smile from Jeordie.  He was standing the the Maid of Honor spot, the rest of the bridesmaids matching his dress and make-up perfectly.  While you certainly couldn’t mistake the dreadlock wearing guitarist as a female, he didn’t make a bad one.  He had enough ‘feminine charm’ to pull it off quite well.  Giving him a wave as well as an appreciative smile, she stepped up to a rather unusual looking priest.  He almost looked like someone that had stepped out of the church of Satan.  He had the stereotypical pointy goatee and evil looking mustache, a black robe adorning his body.  He almost looked like Anton Lavey, a fact that made her shake her head in self derision.  Despite being a member of the Satanist church, there was no way Manson would be able to get ahold of LaVey himself.

Yet, as she got closer, she found that idea harder and harder to dismiss.  If he wasn’t LaVey, he was a really convincing body double.  So convincing that she had to wonder just how Manson had gotten permission to rent out this church.  Usually, Christian establishments wouldn’t let anyone that looked remotely Satanist within ten feet of the worshipping flock.  It was like they were afraid of corruption.  Making what was happening here all the more unbelievable.  If the priest assigned to this chapel came in at this moment, he’d likely have a coronary.  It almost looked like she was getting married to Satan himself.

As they came to a stop inches from the priest, she saw it really was LaVey; her jaw dropping as the intimidating man smiled at her.  “Don’t worry hun, despite appearances this will be a non-denominational ceremony,” assured his fairly pleasant voice, a smile on his face as he brought out a bundle of papers.  Realizing Manson had likely written them a custom ceremony, she spun to face the rocker with a shocked and guilty expression.  Even with her disdain for all this fuss, she should have paid a lot more attention than she had; should have involved herself more.  For all she knew, he’d written vows too; only making her feel that much worse.  Manson only grinned, pressing a loving kiss to her head as the music slowly reached its conclusion.

“This is a celebration, a union of two souls that were meant for eachother.  You all have been asked here to bear witness as well as to give your blessing.  If there is anyone here who disagrees these two should join, let it be known now,” he began, the group watching remaining silent save for a few sniffles here and there.

“Alright, you may now commit to each other in your own way,” the infamous high priest announced, placing the papers back in his robe.

“I’ll go first, okay Cherise?” rumbled a baritone across from her as her eyes shut and her mind began to race.  She had literally nothing prepared and had little hope anything she came up with on the fly could come close to what her beloved had planned.  All she could do was nod as she tried to gather her thoughts.

“Cherise, I have loved you since our first night in that club.  You were so responsive to me, almost as if you’d been conditioned to my voice alone.  Of all my fans, I’d never seen anything like it.  I was captivated.  I know we’ve had our ups and downs but I truly can’t imagine anyone else to spend my life with,” came his very sincere oath, immediately making her tear up despite herself.  Meeting his expectant eyes, she sighed before settling on just telling him how she felt.

“Brian, I can’t even come close to being good enough for you.  You’ve been everything to me since I was young.  Heck, I listened to only your music for a lot of years of my life.  I’ve loved you for so long that just being with you seems like an outright miracle.  You’re amazing, talented and I love you more than a person has any right to.  I’m just honored you chose me,” she whispered, lowering her gaze to stare at her swollen stomach.

Fingertips gently gripped her chin to raise it, forcing her to look up into his emotion filled eyes.  He looked like he wanted to kiss her, mismatched eyes travelling to Anton with a certain impatience.  Getting a teasing smirk in response, Manson glared slightly before LeVay continued.  “Very well, since you two obviously love each other; I now pronounce you man and wife.  You may kiss your stunning bride,” he announced, cheers erupting as the singer’s lips covered hers.  Cherise simply wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed back, squeaking when he swept her into his arms without breaking the liplock.  Then he was carrying her down the aisle while people got to their feet and clapped.

At the reception, Cherise felt much more relaxed.  While she was still in a dress, at least it was a much less expensive one than the one she’d had on previously.  It was also a bit more comfortable for her heavily pregnant body.  It had a much looser top as well as a shorter bottom, the skirt allowing easy access for what her husband no doubt had planned for later.  It was more like a school girl’s outfit but made for a pregnant woman, making her wonder just where he’d gotten it.  As far as she knew, cute clothes just weren’t made for expecting women.  That meant he’d found it in some specialty shop that was well buried or he’d had it custom made for this night.  Given the looks he’d been giving her since they sat at their table, she was inclined to believe it was the second option.

As the food was served and people sat to eat, Manson kept staring at her; as if waiting for something.  Cherise simply did her best to ignore him, tearing into her steak with gusto.  Since she didn’t have much room to gain weight between the dress and her pregnant belly, Twiggy had enforced a strict diet for at least a week before the wedding.  All veggies and very little meat.  It had honestly driven her a bit batty.  She was a person who loved their meat, especially steak.  This wasn’t any ordinary steak either, it was Porterhouse.  So, needless to say, she really only had eyes for her meal.

After two hours, all the plates were cleared and the tables were being moved back to create room for a dance floor.  On the stage, Alice Cooper was setting up for the first number.  He wasn’t the only one either, Jonathan Davis and Zombie also making sure their various equipment were in place.  Even Depp seemed to be preparing to perform, utilizing vocal exercises while Cooper tested the sound.  Some members of Manson’s own band were even helping with the light shows, testing them to ensure they were all working correctly.  It was enough to make her feel guilty all over again.  So, as soon as her new husband was distracted by one of their guests, she was sneaking off to hide in the crowd.  With everything he had done for her while she was too busy wrapped up in her own misery, she found herself unable to even see his face without feeling absolutely awful.

Needless to say, it wasn’t too long before someone placed a hand on her shoulder.  Looking up, she saw the concerned face of Ginger.  “Uh...,” she began, cutting herself off when she saw him open his mouth to interject.

“You okay?  Marilyn do something to upset you?” asked his kind, worried voice as he led her to a table hidden in a dark corner of the huge room.

“N-not especially...  Its just...  I feel so bad that I ignored literally everything to do with this wedding especially with how much work he’s seemed to put in,” she whispered, jumping when the first guitar was tested with a loud burst of music.  A hand covering hers brought her attention back to the percussionist.

“He really doesn’t blame you.  He’s knows you’re a tomboy and he expected you to have little to no interest.  It really is okay.  Besides, hiding from him will do nothing but make him worry.  Right now, Jeordie at least has him convinced you’re in the bathroom.  Won’t be too long before that excuse won’t hold water.  At least he’s distracted with helping Alice set up,” he pointed out, wrapping an arm around her upper back to rub her left shoulder.

Sighing, she hung her head as she reluctantly agreed he was right.  With her being heavily pregnant, of course he would be highly aware of her absence.  Besides, with what Ginger had just said, she felt even worse about hiding.  All of this had been done to celebrate their union, she should be out there with him.  So, gathering her courage and gumption, the painter went back out onto the rather large dance floor; walking up to the much taller performer that was currently facing the stage.  Wrapping her arms around his lanky body, she resting her chin on the back of his uniquely designed jacket.

Covering her hands with his, he let out a soft sigh as he turned his head to look at her out of the corner of his eye.  “You were in there a long while.  Is everything okay?” purred his slightly worried baritone as he turned in her arms to face her.

“Y-yeah.  I just... I needed some space to decompress.  Not really used to all these people,” she explained, the lie tasting like ash in her mouth.

“Mmmm, I’m not surprised.  We artists tend to be introverts,” husked his assurance in her ear as his arms wrapped around her.

“If you ever need more quiet time, just tell me.  It makes me worried when you disappear,” he murmured, one of his hands resting on her tight dome.  Their child gently kicked his palm, as if happy for his touch.  Then he was kissing her sweetly, before breaking the embrace to spin to face forward; his left arm wrapping around her shoulders as they watched Alice do a few vocal tests with the microphone.

A few minutes later, the party was really getting started; all the guests dancing to the song ‘Teenage Frankenstein’.  All except the couple.  The pair had chosen to sit the more vigorous songs out, given Cherise’s current condition.  One thing they didn’t want was to have her go into early labor on accident.  That would cause an all new type of excitement.  Besides, what Manson likely had planned was better for a slow song anyway; so they simply waited.  It wouldn’t be too long before things slowed down to allow them to have their first dance.  In all honesty, that would likely be the moment he would strike.  Especially given the way their sex had been heading.

Sure enough, Johnny Depp was stepping onto the stage; the strains of a familiar Manson song beginning to play.  After a few moments, Cherise realized it was ‘We’re Running to the Edge of the World’.  “Oh, Brian,” she breathed, tears crowding her throat as he got up from their table to offer his hand.

“I figured it was appropriate.  Come on, I’ve been waiting for this all night,” rasped his throaty voice, lust shining clearly in his mismatched eyes.  Putting her hand in his, she allowed him to pull her to her feet and lead her to the dance floor.

The crowd of people immediately dispersed, creating a circle around the pair as the lyrics began.  Placing himself behind her and wrapping his arms around her thick waist, he began to sway gently as he led her in a tight circle.  Lips brushed the cup of her ear as one of his hands left her belly to travel to his fly.  Softly repeating the lyrics, he pressing her hard against him as he placed his tip at her still wet entrance.  Despite appearances, she was just as eager for this encounter as he was.  Over their relationship, she had come to really enjoy their activities; even looked forward to them.  So, instead of protesting, she let out a moan as he slid into her easily.

A bit of a growl came into his voice as he continued to sing, not missing a beat as he began to move his hips in a slow circle.  This movement made it look like he was just adding flair to his dancing while slowly driving her crazy.  Huffing out of her nose, she closed her eyes and leaned back into his lanky body; a smile on her face to give her the appearance of a blissful wife.  As the song went on, however, his movements grew faster; almost desperate.  Even the lyrics had become slightly strained, his lips landing on her racing pulse between stanzas.

In a daze of pleasure, Cherise was vaguely aware of the song coming to its climax; a soft noise escaping her as she felt her body doing the same.  Every touch, growl, swivel only heated her blood more and she had to move her arms backward to wrap around his waist.  Then she was spilling over, pleasant tingling filling her limbs as her legs turned to jello.  With a soft sigh of the last words, Manson spilled into her hot passage; his fingers twitching on her belly.  Moving one hand, he pulled his softening member out of her to stuff back into his pants; using her skirt to hide his actions.  “Love ya darlin’,” he sighed, spinning her to give her a passionate kiss amongst the cheers of their oblivious audience.


End file.
